Truly Repentant
by elvenwanderer
Summary: Maglor's jouney to Valinor. Quite AU.


_Truly Repentant_  
by Elvenwanderer 

  
  
"A pardon happens when a person has done their time; paid their dues to society and allegedly straightened themselves out." -- Rudy Giuliani

* * *

Nearly all of the others had disembarked from the ship before I finally let myself step onto the dock. I still felt uncomfortable being in Aman once again.  
  
I did not feel wanted.  
  
How did the only remaining son of Fëanor come to return to Valinor is the question that must be asked. Indeed, he did not feel he ever would again.

* * *

My step-grandsons had helped me in making the final decision to leave Middle-earth. Though, they did not need to sway my mind all that much; they only placed the final straw that broke the horse's back. Elladan and Elrohir had spent years searching dead trails on the shores of Middle-earth for me, finally returning disappointed to Imladris only to find me reading in one of their father's crumbling libraries. I had been under the impression that they had already sailed, for indeed the city appeared quite abandoned and forlorn. But it was still there. The humans had not yet encroached on the beauty that was Imladris.  
  
Needless to say we were both surprised to find each other there.  
  
After relating to me the events of their fruitless and, honestly, confusing search, the twins convinced me to remain in their father's House with them. At least for the time being. Within a few weeks their grandfather arrived, sharing with them a growing weariness of Middle-earth. At first I was wary around him, being careful to avoid speaking of the past, but he expressed no harbored anger or resentment towards me. He actually was friendly and accommodating to my lack of sociable mannerisms.  
  
Within a number of days, I found myself in abandoned, decaying Lindon, the once great city where my cousin's son Gil-galad dwelt during the second age. Even now, two ages after his passing, everything from the smallest plant to the colossal stones of the foundation lament for the passing of the last High-King and his noble people long gone.  
  
Boarding the ship felt quite strange. A slight, forbidding sensation made me pause on the walkway. Simultaneously, as the light wind whipped some of my hair into my eyes, a small wave swayed the ship towards me, as if urging me forwards. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the hair from my eyes and stepped onto the deck.  
  
For the better part of a month there was a steady breeze from the east, smelling of the putrid country we were leaving behind. Long had the humans defiled the lands with technology and destruction. It had become nearly unbearable to stand, the sight of trees falling by the mile to make room for their exponentially growing population, the rough sound of metal and machines replacing the sweet harmony of nature's song. The only thing that was worse was hearing the weeping of the trees and animals as they saw the humans approach, knowing there was nothing within my power to be done to aid them.  
  
I remember standing on the stern of the ship to watch the dark coastline fade away into grey waves under the black clouds of industry. So much had happened on those shores, there were so many I knew, loved and eventually lost. And to be leaving them behind for eternity seemed too unbelievable.  
  
I felt like I was abandoning them. Abandoning my family, my brothers, my blood. To what? To be mercilessly devoured by mankind's apparent lust for disruption as they carelessly tear through field and forest searching to attain unattainable knowledge? I should not have abandoned them to that. I should have stayed with them.  
  
But I could not. Mankind had marred all that the Quendi cherished. The very air was foul, the soul of the earth gone. Finding true nature was a lie. No elf would be able survive much longer, and believe you me: I stayed as long as I could. I had gone to Imladris to bid a final farewell to my son's Elven haven. I was sure that any other Elda had long since left.  
  
I knew I would have faded soon.

* * *

Celeborn approached me one evening about a week before we arrived in Aman. I had been watching the stars as they flickered overhead, as well as their gentle, rolling reflections in the calm ocean. I always tried to forget about the Silmarilli in this sort of situation, but it was impossible. The very stars taunted me with their clear light, though I knew very well only one of the stars was truly a Slimaril. I had lost too much to those jewels to forget them. I rubbed my mangled right hand, still scarred from the first age.  
  
Celeborn greeted me, taking my attention from the stars and I could see that he had something hidden within the folds of his large sleeves. At first I was suspicious of him, but he then showed me what the object was.  
  
A mirror.  
  
To be honest, this was probably the last thing I expected to see, a fact that caused him to smile at my surprise. Celeborn just told me to be patient, that I would see the reason for the mirror in a moment. He raised it in front of my face so that all I could see were my eyes.  
  
I observed nothing out of the ordinary, save that an eyelash had fallen onto my cheek. I highly doubted that this was the reason he would have bothered to show me the mirror.  
  
I glanced at him, skepticism on my face, but he told me to look again, more closely this time, at my eyes. He asked me, if they were the eyes of a murderer, did they hold the fey light that my father's had that day on Alqualondë or my brothers' in Doriath?  
  
No, he answered. They are the eyes of one truly repentant for what he did. They show all that you are sorry for the lives you took, and that you wish for the world to know that.  
  
He did not know how much that helped me.

* * *

Upon stepping from the ship, I was still half-surprised not to see armed guards come and arrest me, or some great wind sent from Manwë to blow me back out to sea. But, instead quite a crowd had gathered at the quay, and ecstatic friends and family members rushed forward to greet many of the elves I had sailed here with. Celeborn, for whom I now held immense respect, walked away hand in had with my cousin Galadriel, her parents still hovering nearby. I still could not face my uncle Finarfin, but even I, one who has effectively avoided many for thousands of years, could not hide from the eyes of all....  
  
"Give it to a son of Fëanor to slither through others' happiness, leaving behind a trail of slime," a cold, malicious voice drawled from behind me, stopping me in my tracks. "Why is one such as you here, marring the beauty of paradise? How did you become welcome? What gave you the right to usurp another's place on the last grey ship? I am sure that at least one family walks away from the quay utterly disappointed today, faced with the unbearable prospect of never seeing their loved one unto the ending of the world."  
  
This was what I had been afraid of. But what was there for me to do other than put up with it? I could not now return to Middle-earth.  
  
"I took the opportunity that others willingly passed up. I made the decision to come here to beg forgiveness from the Valar."  
  
"But you have more self-centered reasons than that, I'm sure." She probed.  
  
"Even a homeless, wandering beggar does not wish to live throughout the ages of this world completely alone and friendless. I have done that, and it is a fate I would not wish upon even my worst foe. Besides, Middle-earth has become unbearable. No one could live there. I had begun to fade when the twin sons of Elrond asked me to come hither."  
  
"And who are you to decide whether or not you have served out your punishment? How do you know the Valar wished for you to come here?"  
  
I paused to think of an appropriate response, for she brought up a valid point. "I do not think that the Valar would have granted me passage if they could not tolerate my presence here. Yet that is not to say that they could force me to leave once more."  
  
"Of course, then. First you barge onto the ship, knowing that the Valar would not penalize you for doing so, and then you wish to receive pardon for your faults?"  
  
The voice stung, but I knew that criticism would come sooner or later. "How long must one suffer for their actions taken thousands of years beforehand?" I defended my voice meek, trying to save face and justify my presence. "If one is pressured into acting not of their own will and better judgment, what then? I realize that I made my own decisions – bad ones, mostly – but how long do I have to pay when I am truly repentant? I have regretted much of what I committed since I swore that damned Oath thousands of years ago."  
  
"Much?"  
  
"I would never relinquish my time spent in the company of the young Peredhil, nor the rare moments I would spend in merriment with my family. Even here in Aman times like those were few and far between. They often served as a buoy for my rational mind to cling to in the dark storms that are my memories."  
  
My father would have been furious to see any of his sons cowering in fear of an elleth, being not even courageous enough to face her. From the beginning, he had instilled my brothers and I with a strong sense of pride. Nearly all of my pride had been washed away with the sands of time. I had given up on most of my pride when I stepped off the white ship at Losgar and saw it burning with my brother still aboard [note at bottom]. I knew then that my decision to follow my father was a truly folly one. But what was done was done, and I had no choice but to follow the constraints of my Oath, whether I wished to or not.  
  
I cast my eyes to the ground, hearing her walk around to my front. A small hand touched my cheek, and pushed my chin up. I saw a wise, russet-framed face beaming at me. She laughed at what must have been the most bewildered look that she had seen in a long while.  
  
My jaw dropped. I was at a total loss for words.  
  
My mother laughed again, and pulled me into a hug.  
  
Finis

* * *

"I had given up on most of my pride when I stepped off the white ship at Losgar and saw it burning with my brother still aboard...." In The Peoples of Middle-earth, it is said that when Fëanor and Celegorm's men burned the ships at Losgar, there was still one of the Seven aboard, Amras. I just thought that Maglor was a caring elf, sort of a mother hen to his five younger brothers, and that he would have been crushed at their subsequent deaths.  
  
Throughout this fic I have thought of Maglor as courteous, levelheaded, somewhat shy and afraid of what people think about him, and I have tried to portray that.  
  
Please note that this fic has nothing to do with my other fic _Peace At Last_.   
  
At the end, I had some additional material about his and his mother's relationship, but found it superfluous. I believe that he had been very close to his mother (as had Maedhros), Nerdanel the Wise, before he left and that she had been hurt thinking that he was as fickle as his younger brothers, who had all seemed to me to be more of Fëanor's temperament, when the eldest two sons had also sworn the oath. If that sentence made any sense to anyone, I'm glad at least somebody understands it. :o)  
  
Reviews are greatly appreciated! 


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